You Know You Are Addicted To Cyberporn
by femme4jack
Summary: A year later, finally an update! Chapter 4 summary: After Ratchet's disastrous "health class", Prowl and Jazz wake up in the brig, and the twins are up to something in the rec room. Rating now M for subject matter.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: You know you are addicted to Cyberporn...  
Author: Femme4jack  
Summary: Oneshot crackfic inspired by Hummergrey's "If and Autobot do NOT do the following" - Prowl discovers fanfiction and trips his logic glitch.  
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble  
Ratings/Warning: PG-13 (bordering on R) for language, insinuation, and subject matter  
Disclaimer: just playing with them. **

Ok, this bunny just kept hopping into my office today. My bad.

This is dedicated to Hummergrey and is based on her "If an Autobot do NOT do the following" verse.

::Prime, we have a situation.::

::I'm on patrol, can it wait Prowl?::

::I have already arranged for Bumblebee to relieve you, and Lenox is coming as well. You will likely run into him on the way.::

::Right. I'll give him a ride to speed things up.::

Prowl sighed and looked again at the list that had recently appeared on his desk.

"These humans never cease to confound me with their illogical behaviors and ridiculous imaginations. Our interfacing methods are completely incompatible with their mating practices. How could they not understand that?"

Prime walked in a few minutes later with Lenox on his shoulder.

"What is the emergency?" he inquired, sounding exhausted.

Prowl handed Prime the data pad. Prime held it so Lenox could read as Prowl explained, "Our introduction to the public at large, along with the cartoon, documentary movies, and toys you approved in order to fund the Arc project have led to some unintended results. It appears that many of the women on base, as well as some of the men, have long been engaged in reading and or writing erotic stories with Cybertronians, real and imagined, as the main characters. Once the secrecy act was lifted, some of them began posting the stories on the World Wide Web. The practice has gone viral and has become a world-wide underground phenomenon. I may not have stumbled on it if I hadn't come across this list on the human server."

**You know you addicted to Cybertronian Porn when**

**1. Your spouse/partner/lover has to make transformation noises to get your attention.  
2. Your spouse/partner/lover has to make transformation noises to get your attention, and it works.  
3. You get hot every time you see a bright yellow vehicle, even a school bus.  
4. Having never had any remote interest in hot sports cars before, you are driven to distraction noticing every single one on the highway, and are being reckless trying to catch up and look.  
5. Your kids keep complaining about finding their transformers in your room.  
6. Your kids buy you a Bumblebee w/ Sam for mothers day, you're ecstatic, and tell them they can't play with it because it is your "special"  
7. Words like "interface" "cable" "optics" "armor plating" "protoform" "sensors", and "wires" are the sexiest words you can imagine.  
8. You have to fight the temptation to grab car butts when around colleagues, family members, well...everyone.  
9. You now pronounce "Starscream" as "Stars Cream"  
10. You can't listen to jazz without thinking of police cars, and you can't look at a police car without wanting to listen to jazz.  
11. You are regularly getting less than 6 hours of sleep per night and have a permanent kink in your neck from reading your laptop in bed.  
12. You keep asking your kids if they want to watch Transformers or ROTF for movie night. And they keep wondering why the family is suddenly having so many movie nights.  
13. Every time your kids ask if they can watch one of the Transformers movies, you answer "yes" without hesitation, even if you need to leave for work/school in 15 minutes.  
14. The truck stop and the truck weigh station are suddenly two of the sexiest places you could ever imagine.  
15. You find yourself caressing your minivans steering wheel, and quietly asking if he'd mind finding a new alt form.**  
**16. You suddenly feel incredible guilt about how you treat your car, and promise to give him a bath on the next sunny day and to quit letting the kids eat inside.**  
**17. You really want your seat belt to give you a hug when you've had a bad day.**  
**18. The names "Spike" and "Sparkplug" sound unbelievably kinky and suggestive.**

Prime's frown continued to deepen as he finished the list. Will sounded as though he were choking, but kept a straight face when Prowl growled at him.

As Prime came to the end of the list, his eyes flashed red and growled dangerously "Spike and Sparkplug?"

"Characters in that cartoon you approved, based on Sam and Mikaela. It may have been a mistake to allow Sideswipe to be the principle writer for the show. You did know those are the Cybertronian nicknames that he gave them several years ago?"

"I thought being the writer would give him a creative outlet to keep him out of trouble, but those names are absolutely obscene! I can't believe Bumblebee allows it!" Prime responded while Will continued to make strange choking noises through his nose.

"For some reason, Bumblebee refers to them by those names as well, " Prowl continued after another glare at Will. "As appalling as that is, don't you think we have more important things to worry about? Humans, including many on base, are _apparently_ writing pornography about our interfacing habits, and have some very illogical ideas. They _even_ have stories about us seducing and interfacing with members of their species. This is catastrophic for our public image, Prime!"

"Apparently?" Asked Will, trying desperately to keep a straight face. "You haven't actually read the stories, Prowl?"

"Reading their summaries was enough to trip my logic glitch once today. I do not dare investigate further. That is why I called both of you. " Prowl replied sullenly.

Prime vented, and taking a moment to calm his circuits. "We will have the rest of the senior officers investigate and determine how much damage has been done to our reputations," Prime calmly stated. "I want a report in 30 minutes with links to the 4 most popular websites. We will divide the reading between Ironhide, Elita, Ratchet and myself. Will, you will assist Prowl in determining which sites will be the most fruitful for investigation. Unfortunately, now that we are finally in the open, no one has the authority to shut these sites down. We will instead need to determine a damage control plan in order to protect and rebuild our reputations. I never thought I would rue the day that we could finally exist in the open on this world."

Prime turned his gigantic head toward the human on his shoulder, regarding him piercing optics. "Will, I must ask, did you have any knowledge of this practice?"

Will looked down as his feet, refusing to meet either of the mech's optics.

"Will?" Prime repeated.

"You might want to ask Sarah, Mikaela, and Maggie for reading recommendations. I think they were the start of the whole thing. But do NOT under any circumstance tell them that I told you. I value my life. And take it easy on them, big guy. Reading and writing erotic fanfiction, according to Sarah, is popular and common among intelligent women, and has some very positive side effects for those who love them. "

Prime found himself silently fascinated. Who knew? "Thank you for your honesty. Will, Prowl, that will be all."

Prime lifted Will from his shoulder and deposited him on Prowls desk, departing without another word, lost in thought. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: You know you are addicted to Cyberporn...  
Author: Femme4jack  
Chapter Summary: Prime meets with his officers, and gets a surprise.  
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble  
Ratings/Warning: PG-13  
Disclaimer: just playing with them. **

Optimus Prime, avatar of Primus by the selection of the Allspark, bearer of the Matrix, heir to the legacy of the 13, author of Cybertron's Golden Age, defender of freedom for all sentient life against the Deceptacon forces of bigotry and destruction, stood outside of the Rec Room scared to his spark. He found himself silently wishing for anything, even a Deceptacon attack to prevent him from having to walk through the door.

Inside the party was already in full swing, and the high grade and booze were flowing. Jazz was DJ for the evening and the Karaoke had already begun. It was a double celebration that had been taking place for 7 years now, and each year the party surpassed the last.

Prime's third-in-command and age-long friend, Jazz, and Sam, the human Prime whom Optimus called "brother", were celebrating their "birthday". Cybertronians did not celebrate the anniversary of their creation, but ever since the miniscule essence of Jazz that had still clung to his dead frame had been resparked by Sam using the Allspark shard on the day that also happened to mark the anniversary of Sam's birth, Sam and Jazz had insisted on celebrating their "birthday" together.

Each year something new happened, and it was always rowdy, always fun, and always hilarious. The previous year the two had convinced several of the mechs to perform scenes from Romeo & Juliet. Jazz had played Juliet and had somehow convinced Prowl to play Romeo.

Optimus normally looked forward to this night. It was a night when he could relax, let down his guard, and simply enjoy friendship, hope and life. But the events of the day had shaken him. For the first time since he had arrived on earth, he was sorely tempted to pack up and leave. And all because he, who had faced down Megatron and the Fallen, didn't have the fortitude to face three human women, whose voices his sensitive audios could hear laughing and enjoying themselves inside.

Prime had spent the afternoon reading several hundred so-called fan-fiction stories that Prowl had discovered earlier in the day. He and his officers (minus Jazz) had met after having a chance to review some of the strange erotica humans seemed inclined to write. Optimus thought that very little could surprise him after 9 million years, but he had to admit, he was surprised…and shocked…confused….angry… embarrassed…and even a bit flattered.

Prime's legendary patience was swiftly melting down into a legendary freak out. He closed his optics and recalled the meeting he and his senior officers (minus the "birthday bot") had concluded only a few breams before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet, Elita and Optimus were sitting at the conference table each waiting for someone to say something. Will had not been asked to come. They needed a chance to discuss the issue among themselves.

Ironhide finally broke the silence. "Well, that was an _interesting_ way to spend the afternoon."

Elita smirked and replied, "Did you get some good ideas, Hide? Anything new you want to try with Chromia, or your humans for that matter? I read some pretty steamy ones about you and Will. I didn't know you had modified one of your fingers to transform into a vibrator."

Ironhide's cannons whirled, "well you and our oversexed Prime here have supposedly done it human-style in just about every room on base, 'Lita. I didn't know our Prime had that kind of equipment, or should I call it _Prime assets?" _ Turning to Prime he continued,_ " _It seems Elita here is tired of having such thoughtful partner and really just wants someone to throw her up against a wall and frag her senseless. Not to mention her schemes to frag both of us, at the _same time_. You know, I could arrange that if you are interested…"

Prime vented and attempted to remain calm. This was supposed to be a serious meeting about a serious issue. "We do not need to discuss the details of who did who and how in these ridiculous stories, but rather how much harm is being done to our reputations, and what response we need to make." Prime looked out of the corner of his optics at Prowl, who would have been pale had he been human. He hoped his SIC's logic glitch wasn't going to trip for a second time in one day.

Ratchet jumped in, "but that is just the issue. We do need to discuss who does who and how. The whole problem is that we have left too much to these human's imaginations, out of some misplaced sensitivity to their cultural taboos regarding open, honest communication about intimacy. We've been thoroughly educated on human-style intimacy (if you can call it intimacy – I have my doubts) thanks to their own displays on the Internet and through our friendships with our human allies. Just by keeping our sensors trained on them, we know just about everything going on in their bodies. We know when they want to mate, often whom they want to mate with, how many times they have mated recently, and even if it was good for them. They truly have no privacy from us in this arena. And they are the ones who are reticent about their intimacy. We have always been completely open and comfortable with the way we express our intimate connections. But by keeping it completely secret from the humans, we've invited them to do just what they have done."

Optimus was relieved to finally be getting down to serious discussion. "What do you propose, Ratchet?"

"I propose that we offer _sex-ed, Cybertronian style_ to all of our human allies. We should give them a demonstration of what our interfacing and sharing looks like. We should never have kept it a secret, behind closed doors – it is completely against our basic programming. We should tell the humans on base that taboos or not, we are who we are, and quit trying to protect them from some sort of fleshing meltdown. And, if we need to explain ourselves to the whole of earth's population, we use one of the mediums we have at our disposal – the animated series, books, a third documentary live-action film, or even the toys – no reason for them to not be anatomically correct." Ratchet looked rather pleased with himself and his suggestion.

"You may be right about the demonstration, Ratchet, " Elita chimed in, "I don't think that is a bad idea. I for one am tired of having to wait for those rare moments when we both have time to be in our quarters together to share with Optimus. But I think all of you are overreacting to the problem here. These writers are doing something that is absolutely normal for imaginative, biologically driven humans. Mikaela, Sarah and Maggie truly were just having fun when they started all of this. They admitted to one another over beers on a ladies night that they, for some strange reason, always felt sexually charged when they road in one of us, and started writing for fun, relaxation, and to try to figure out why their bodies were responding that way. You will find humans writing these sorts of stories about just about anyone – real or fictional. It is amusing to them, and aids in the expression of their own sexuality." Elita was going to continue, when she noticed the dark look her mate was giving her.

"Elita. I never told you that Mikaela, Sarah and Maggie had anything to do with this. How do you know so much about this?" Optimus asked in a quiet voice that sounded utterly deadly.

Every optic in the room stared at the femme commander. She stared back at them, completely calm and assured.

"Of course I know about it. I wrote about half of the initial stories, just to entertain the girls. Who else do you think they would have approached with their questions. You, Optimus? They were embarrassed to even sit in your alt mode because they were so turned on around you."

The room erupted. Elita, sat as peaceful as the eye of a hurricane, regarding the yelling mechs with complete calm.

"YOU wrote these? To entertain _the girls_?" Prime roared.

"Yes, I wrote them. To entertain my friends. It was a way for me to come to a better understanding of them – what gets them excited sexually, what appeals to their minds and souls. You've probably all read my stories. Pen name is _Phoenix."_

"But those were some of the _most _inaccurate and explicit, Elita!" yelled Ratchet, standing up.

"Inaccurate? Some were. Others could probably be used for your class, Ratchet. Anyhow, I wasn't writing them to educate the girls. I already educated them when they first invited me on a girl's night. I was writing to entertain them, to help them understand their own sexual needs and desires with us as avatars…so they would be able to express their own desires to their mates. "

The room erupted a second time. Hide's canons were whirling frantically, and Prowls wings were twitching at the same speed. Elita abruptly stood up, and walked to the door, the picture of calm and confidence

"When you _boys_ want to have a rational conversation about this, let me know. You might even consider asking Maggie, Sarah and Mik to join us. They have done nothing wrong. For now, I've got a party to get ready for. And Optimus, it wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't started it. It would be happening anyhow, with the wide public knowledge about us and the way we have used human media to promote ourselves. You may not like it, but we are celebrities now." With that, she practically flounced out of the room, effectively ending the meeting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And now, a very shaken Optimus stood at the Rec Room door, building up the courage to enter the room where he would have to face his nemesis in the form of 3 human women. He nearly turned to head back to his quarters when Jazz's voice rose above the party.

"Mikki and I have a special treat for ya t'night," Jazz announced to cheers. He sat down at a mech-sized piano Sam had given him a few years before. "This one is dedicated to our wise, patient, and so very handsome leader. Come on in, Optimus. Stand up front. Mikki has something she wants to sing for ya."

Every eye and optic were turned to Prime as he stood frozen in the doorway. He found himself walking toward the front of the room, to stand by Jazz, almost against his own volition. Then Mikaela came on stage, wearing a skintight black leather dress that left nothing to the imagination. The room erupted in catcalls and cheers.

"This one is for you, big guy," she said, walking right up to him to stand between his legs. Jazz began to play a sultry blues song on the piano, and the lights dimmed, leaving Optimus standing there gaping in the spotlight, with Mikaela directly below him as she started to sing...

[Author's note: if you wish to listen to the song Mikaela and Jazz are performing, please, search "Diana Krall Love me like a man union station" on You Tube]

_The men that I've been seeing  
They got their soul up on a shelf  
You know they could never love me  
When they can't even love themselves_

_And I want someone to love me  
Someone who really understands  
Who won't put himself above me  
Who just love me like a man_

Optimus just gaped. What pit-spawned plan was this? Had the cons gotten to Mikaela and convinced her to offline him out of sheer embarrassment? Jazz continued a saucy blues riff and Mikaela called up to him

"Pick me up, big guy. I want to see your sexy blue optics while I sing this!"

Again, nearly against his will, Optimus found himself picking up the scantily clad female. He held her in front of him, staring in disbelief.

"Don't look so shocked, you slagger. Come on honey…this is all for fun. Jazz and Sam's birthday treat."

_I never seen such losers darling  
Even though I tried  
To find a man who can take me home instead of  
Taking me for a ride_

_And I need someone to love me  
Darling I know you can  
Don't you put yourself above me  
You just love me like a man  
_  
As Jazz continued to pound the blues, Mikaela began climbing, or rather sliding herself up his arm, ending up on his shoulder where she started playing with his audios. Optimus, for a moment, actually considered squishing her.

_They all want me to rock them  
Like my back ain't got no bone  
I want a man to rock me  
Like my backbone was his own  
Darling I know you can  
Believe it when I tell you  
You can love me like a man_

_Came home sad and lonely  
I feel like I wanna cry  
Want a man to hold me  
Not some fool who ask me why  
And I need someone to love me  
Baby you can  
Don't you put yourself above me  
Just love me like a man._

The lights went down as the catcalls and cheers erupted from humans and bots alike, but were immediately cut off by a deafening crash. Optimus had collapsed, circuits glitched, right on top of the now smashed piano. With lightning reflexes, Jazz managed to jump free just in time and catch Mikaela.

"Ratchet!" he yelled.

Diana Krall, "Love me like a Man" from _Girl in the Other Room (2004, Verve Music Group)_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: You Know You are Addcited to Cyberporn Ch 3  
Author: Femme4jack  
Pairings: JazzXProwl  
Warnings: Absolute crack, pnp, implied sparksex  
Rating: PG-13  
Chapter Summary: Ratchet Finally teaches his health class, Prowl and Jazz help  
Notes: In addition to my usual inspiration from Hummergrey, I have to thank **saesama** for her scientific explanation of mech interfacing, which I have totally botched here, and Dwimrodene for Lets Talk about Sex, from which I borrowed the concept of Ratchet's struggle to understand how to "teach" those who do not learn by upload.

I wanted to get this up in time for my birthday. I'm not totally happy with this chapter, but it took forever and it done.

Ratchet sat in his office, surrounded by datapads as well as various textbooks on human theories of education and learning. Optimus had been released from Medbay after his unfortunate processor glitch, and was on mandatory R&R in his quarters for an orn, but before his release, the two had agreed that the humans on base were to be briefed on Cybertronian intimacy customs post haste.

"It is important that this be done right," Ratchet murmured to himself. Teaching a class was a foreign concept to beings who accessed information through direct interface or data upload. While certainly the new data had to be integrated into the proper subroutines through direct experience, practice, and conscious effort, Cybertronians did not have a true concept of real-time learning when it came to information, while this was the only way humans _could_ learn information.

"It would be so much simpler to be able to upload the proper data into their processors, but that is impossible with primate brains. Even if I somehow could interface with their neural processors, I would not be able to compile and compress the data into a form that would be usable by them."

No, the only answer was a class. But Ratchet realized quickly in his perusal of human educational theory that a simple lecture or written text on the subject was not likely to be retained by some of the humans. In fact, some humans were likely to completely blank out a lecture, and not remember a thing, and others would simply ignore the written text or fail to retain what they read. A demonstration was in order. That way those humans who learned best through visual methods would also retain the information. But who would do the demonstrating?

For simple, everyday tactile intimacy, any two would do. Helping release the static charge of overworked circuits was as common among the Autobots as grooming was among less developed primates. While it was a highly pleasurable activity, it was not as emotionally intimate an act as humans might assume, though bonded Cybertronians certainly found highly interesting and creative ways to engage in such "grooming", generally as an act of what the humans might call foreplay to deeper forms of sharing. The fact was that grooming (and Ratchet was beginning to like that particular English word to describe the act) was as normal and common for their kind as hugs and handshakes were to the humans. The edict against public "grooming" was terribly irritating for beings that were used to being highly tactile with their cohort-mates. If it weren't for the human taboos against such public displays, Ratchet was certain that a moment would not go by when some Autobot couldn't be found publically stroking, massaging, sending light EM charges into strained the circuits of a cohort mate without a second thought. It was perfectly normal. Why, he had done so for his friend and Prime but a few breams earlier as standard treatment following his correction of the minor processor glitch.

No, it would not be a problem to find a couple of mechs or femmes, or one of each build to demonstrate what was for their species a completely normal public behavior. This was the simple part of the presentation, and the grooming analogy would be a concept the humans would understand and identify with. In fact, Ratchet thought excitedly, he had from time to time witnessed humans with close bonds publically massaging the overtaxed and tense shoulder muscles of a friend or lover, probably an activity directly related to grooming from an evolutionary perspective. Yes, this would work, and NEST could become a place where his kind no longer had to hide normally open behavior. It would certainly help morale among his cohort, and could even spill over to the humans, whom Ratchet felt were woefully in need of more public tactile affection with their teammates. How a cohort could ever trust one another in battle without a foundation of tactile intimacy was beyond him. Why…perhaps the humans and bots could even learn to provide tactile relief to one another, as a way of bonding the mixed-species cohort more closely! Such a thing would be a great improvement to the normal goings on he saw in the military.

Ratchet was positively gleeful at the thought. He had seen Bumblebee rubbing a finger along the Sam or Mikaela's back accompanied by gentle EM pulses when one of the humans was tense, tired, or emotionally overwrought. He had even witnessed Ironhide soothing Annabelle with his own deceptively gentle energy and touch. Yes, teaching the humans about Cybertronian grooming practices was sure to have a positive impact on life at the base.

Ratchet was interrupted from his planning by a private comm from Sideswipe.

/Watcha doin, doc?/

/ I am busy. If you are injured, get your aft in here and I'll weld you to the berth until I have time to attend to you./

/Not hurt this time, doc. Just bored. I heard a little something about your class. You need a volunteer?/

/I do indeed, but it shall not be you./

/But I would be great!/ Sideswipe began making vivid and realistic human orgasm noises over the comm..

/Precisely./ Ratchet cut off the obnoxious demonstration and vented in exaspiration. /You, young mech, are part of the problem here. /

/You are going to bore them to tears, Hatchet. You need me there to make it _interesting._ You don't want them thinking that sex for us is about as fascinating as watching CSpan, do you? That would be positively shameful./

/First of all, we do not have sex. And secondly, I find your CSpan analogy appealing. That is exactly how interesting I would like for humans to find our acts of intimacy – then there will be no reason for them to engage in such ridiculous fictional speculation. You will not, under any circumstances be the subject of this demonstration. I am not trying to make this interesting. I am intending to make it accurate./

/Well, if you change your mind, my offer stands. If you want to show them how sexy mechs get it on, have Sunny and I do the demo. The humans won't be disappointed./

/Which is precisely the reason that my answer is no. By the way, I watched your wretched cartoon yesterday. You had the character based on Sam, whom you have called _Spike_, crawling _inside_ what appeared to be Ironhide's interface port to make a repair. If you or your twin come within a mile of that class while I'm teaching it, I will make sure that our weapons specialist receives a data packet with that scene. Understood?/

/Well…at least _someone_ is noticing all of the insider humor in that show now. I've felt so underappreciated./ Sideswipe cut off the comm. with a chuckle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Optimus' recent glitch had been terribly inconvenient for Prowl. Not only did he have his own responsibilities to attend to, he also had been required to meet with Lennox to brief him on Prime's condition and inform him of the briefing on Cybertronian intimacy customs scheduled for that afternoon. Prime required every human adult on base, including spouses to be present. Normally, Optimus made decisions such as this after consulting with the human base commander, but this time Prime had made the call on his own. Lennox, in a move that showed a complete lack of professionalism had fallen off of his chair and started laughing. He laughed so long and so hard that his human optics had overflowed with tears, which confused and irritated Prowl ever further.

"Why ever are you so upset, Major?" Prowl inquired, concerned for the human's well being as he had never before seen him have such a malfunction.

Lennox tried to talk, but every time he began to speak a word, he started laughing again. Finally, he took a series of deep breath and calmed himself.

"You are telling me that Optimus Prime has ordered a sex education class for the whole base?" Lennox said in a voice that sounded almost desperate, as he wiped a tear away from his eye and choked down laughter again.

"It is not sex education, Major, as we do not engage in 'sex' and we do we not procreate sexually. That is one of the misconceptions this briefing is intended to rectify."

Lennox just laughed harder.

"You do not agree with this course of action, Major?" asked the highly annoyed SIC.

"Oh, by all means, I completely support it. I haven't heard such a good idea in all my years in the army," Lennox chortled.

"Major, I am not yet accustomed enough with your speech patterns to determine whether you are being sincere about your support for our educational endeavor."

"And that is what is so damn funny. Go ahead. Have the class. Prime ordered it after all, and he is my superior. I'll personally order the base to attend. I'm sure it will be most enlightening," Lennox replied amidst his peals of a laughter, wiping yet another leak from his optics.

Several hours later, after organizing the details of the coming briefing, the SIC found himself nearly critically undercharged, and if he did not rectify that situation soon, he was likely to face a glitch of his own which would bring down Ratchet's wrath. He headed toward his quarters in order to catch a few hours of recharge before the coming briefing.

As the door to his quarters slid open, Prowl faced yet another source of irritation. Jazz sat with his feet propped on Prowl's desk, his mandibles in an all too human smirk. As Prowl slid by to his chair, he smoothly removed the 3IC's feet from his desk and sat down, noting that it took 1.276 seconds for Jazz's feet to return to their prior position.

"I don't recall comm-ing you to meet me in my quarters, Jazz."

"Since when do I need an invitation t' talk with ya, Prowler? We're in this thing together. I'm here t' help."

"I don't require any help at this moment, Jazz. Everything is completely under control."

"Is it now? Is everything ready for Hatchet's little class this afternoon? The whole base is in a buzz 'bout it."

"The only item that remains undecided is who shall accurately demonstrate Cybertronian forms of bonding to dispel the humans' more unpleasant speculations."

At that, Jazz's visor lit up. "Well, now, Prowler, that is precisely why I came for this little visit. You, see, Ratchet has asked me t' coordinate the demonstration."

"You?" Prowl was flabbergasted.

"Of course. Ratchet said that as a senior member of the command staff with expertise in human cultural taboos and sensitivities, as well as a rather 'insatiable curiosity' about alien species, I was the ideal choice. Plus he trusts me t' be more mature about the whole matter than the other mechs who have volunteered for the job." Jazz appeared quite smug at the decision.

"Mechs have been volunteering?" Prowl inquired with dread.

"Oh yes, Sideswipe, Skids, Mudflap - t' name a few."

Prowl covered his optics with his servos, leaning down over his desk in an all too human gesture. Ratchet was right. Jazz was the only logical choice.

"So whom will you be demonstrating with?" Prowl asked, fearing the answer.

"That's what I came here t' ask you. You really are the only logical choice." Jazz smiled innocently.

"Me!" Prowl erupted.

"Yes, you, Prowl. Who else do you propose? Optimus? He is still on the mend from last night's humiliation. Ironhide? He would vaporize the humans for some of the questions they will inevitably ask. Sideswipe? Sunstreaker? Ya already know that isn't a possibility."

"Bumblebee, then." offered Prowl.

"Are you really not aware that Bumblebee, along with his humans, have been just as involved in the creation of that cartoon as Sideswipe?" Jazz responded seriously.

"One of the triplets, then, or all of them if you prefer," Prowl suggested helpfully.

"Optimus and Ratchet have ruled that out. They don't want t' even try t' deal with the misconceptions the humans have about gender versus build, and t' have a mech and a femme would introduce an element t' the demonstration that humans would interpret as sexual. Already been hard enough with the humans' insistence on using female pronouns t' refer t' 'em."

Prowl nodded his head in understanding, beginning to look resigned to his fate.

"You are the only choice, my man. You are the only Autobot who can be trusted t' handle this logically, t' not use it as 'n excuse for a spectacle t' disturb the humans. 'Sides, look how tense ya are. Ya can't tell me that ya wouldn't benefit from a little…what does Ratchet call it…grooming?"

Jazz argued his point in a cool, level-headed manner, and Prowl had to admit that the mech who was usually a disturbingly unconventional thinker was making his point very logically. Besides, Prowl had nothing to be embarrassed of. It was the humans who should be embarrassed for their ridiculous taboos and ideas that kept the Autobots hiding their normal social behavior as if they were a bunch of human teenagers. And Prowl knew that he, of all of the mechs or femmes on base, could be trusted to handle this demonstration with the proper restraint. The fact that he could never recall ever having that type of tactile contact with Jazz processed a bit strange to him, he found himself wondering why the unreserved, highly tactile and friendly Autobot had never initiated "grooming" with him before. He found he was looking forward to the prospect. Not that Prowl ever initiated such behaviors himself. Compared to the rest of his cohort, he was highly reserved and private about giving or receiving relief. Most of the time it was Ratchet who ended up giving his circuits relief out sheer of medical necessity.

"All right, I agree. Your logic is sound, unlike usual."

Jazz's face lit into the brightest smile Prowl had seen on him in some time.

"Fantastic. I'll see you this afternoon." The silver mech gave Prowl a squeeze on the shoulder as he bounced out of the room, looking as though he were walking on clouds.

If Prowl had an eyebrow to raise, raised it would have been in a most Spock-like fashion as the door slid closed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The auditorium used for large briefings on base was a huge structure, designed to accommodate several hundred humans as well as at least a dozen Cybertonians. It was, in essence, a large Imax theater, and doubled as the base's movie theater. The floor was steeply slanted so that humans who sat in the higher section (essentially a balcony) could easily see over any Autobots who were present (who usually arranged themselves on the floor of the lower section because often they were the ones leading the briefing). On this particular afternoon, the auditorium was standing room only. Every adult who lived on base, including spouses, was present by the order of Optimus Prime whose authority on base even outweighed Major Lennox. Not all of the Cybertronians were present, though. Some had been ordered to stay away, such as Skids and Mudflap (who were actually put into the brig to prevent any mishaps), and others had been blackmailed not to be present (the base's more deadly set of twins). Bumblebee sat on the floor in front of the human section of the auditorium, his human charges sitting, as usual, on his shoulders, swinging their legs and joking around with him. Ironhide stood to the side, looking even more annoyed and deadly than usual. Chromia, one of Ironhide's bondmates, stood next to him with an amused look on her face, quietly chatting in Cybertronian with Elita and Arcee who sat nearby, all three watching the humans file in with interest. Jolt sat near Bumblebee, and appeared to be in light recharge.

Optimus stood regally at the front of the room, released from mandatory R&R breams earlier. However, as regal as his stance, it was clear from the way his optics kept shifting that he was attempting to gaze anywhere but at Mikaela Banes and two other human women whom he had instantly located when he entered. Nor would he meet the optics of his femme bondmate, from whom he was shielding himself tightly and who was now watching him with undisguised glee. Jazz and Prowl stood with Ratchet on the other side of the stage from Prime. Ratchet noted that Jazz's armor was absolutely gleaming from a recent polish, and that Prowl appeared distracted, unable to keep his optics off of Prime's head of special ops.

None of the humans who were streaming in for the briefing should have been aware of the topic, but somehow it had leaked, and the mood was more that of a high school assembly than a professional military briefing. While the Nest was far more relaxed than many bases (hard not to be with some of the antics the larger members of the alliance got up to), normally briefings such as these, especially those called by the Prime himself, were treated with utmost seriousness because everyone's lives depended on the knowledge that would be imparted.

Not this time. This time, they might has well have been expecting the school nurse to lecture the student body about the birds and the bees and two of the school's Vice Principals to give a demonstration. The "students" were either ridiculously excited (this group included a good portion of the base's female population), disgusted, or making jokes and laughing their asses off (by far the majority in attendance). Ratchet's sensitive audios overheard many a suggestive comment that would have certainly tripped Prowl's logic glitch had the SIC had not been so completely distracted by the shiny mech beside him. Ratchet, observing the two, felt the beginnings of concern. For vorns those two had danced around one another. But if any two could maintain the professional decorum required for this briefing…

The plan for the afternoon's briefing was simple. Ratchet would give a short lecture, dispelling some of the misconceptions that has arisen on base and as a result spread to the human populace in general. Jazz would give a demonstration of "grooming" between cohort mates, the activity that humans would need to become aware of and comfortable with. Then, Ratchet would use his specialized medical interface to demonstrate higher forms of sharing with Jazz. This made perfect sense as Ratchet in his roll as medic interfaced with all those in the cohort in order to maintain their systems at the highest levels. As a medic he had the ability to control the level of sharing that took place. Finally, spark merging would be explained to the humans, but not demonstrated because that particular form of intimacy was considered to be highly private even for Cybertronians, and normally only took place between a pair, trine or the occasional larger group of bondmates. Jazz was willing to show the humans his spark (not surprising considering he was about the most open mech in the history of their faction). Finally they would take questions. Ratchet felt confident that this would be a successful briefing with positive results both for his earthbound cohort and the base at large. He was not disturbed by the high school-like atmosphere as the humans settled in to their seats. He understood that any conversation about intimacy, emotional and physical bonds tended to cause humans discomfort, and when humans were uncomfortable, they tended to revert to earlier stages of their emotional development. He was certain that once the briefing began, the base's professionalism would reemerge.

The humans and Autobots present quieted as Prime came to the front and assumed his normal command position with his servos resting on his hips, gazing out at those present.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Optimus began. "I have called this briefing today because a situation has arisen that could cause serious damage to the reputation of our allied team. Because we were concerned about human discomfort around the idea of our species having any sort of physically intimate relationships, we chose not to share certain aspects of our normally open day-to-day existence with you. At some point, certain human members of this alliance became aware that our species did indeed have intimate relations which, though very different from those of human beings, fulfills some of the same emotional functions for us. These humans," _aided by my pit-spawned bondmate, he added silently_, "began writing speculative fictional accounts of said activities, which, unbeknownst to us, became widely read on base." This Prime said with almost a growl, venting once and then quickly regained his infinite patience. "At some point, after knowledge of our presence on this planet became public, these stories began circulating into the population at large and spawned a whole movement…"

Optimus was suddenly interrupted by the screaming of a young civilian woman, whom he recalled worked in tech support. She burst out of the human section of the auditorium and ran toward him through the gathered Autobots.

"Optimus, pick me, pick me! I'll be your pet. Please! Pick me. I'll do anything you ask me to do!"

Optimus, flustered, took a step back from the woman who was now clinging to his right foot. Ironhide, without comment, picked up the small female, dangling her like a human might dangle a mouse, and carried her toward two MPs who were the closest auditorium door.

"Do I get to be your pet?" she was heard to ask as he handed her over.

"In your squishy dreams," rumbled the answer to the whirl of a canon.

There were some snickers and coughs in the audience, which were silenced immediately when Optimus gave a deadly look to the assembly.

"What has just taken place illustrates why this briefing is so important. These notions have gotten out of hand. There are whole communities of humans who have gathered for the soul purpose of training themselves to be 'Autobot pets' or, worse yet, Decepticon ones. We simply must overcome your human misconceptions about us. So I have asked my senior medic, Ratchet, to present to you the relevant information."

With this, Prime vacated the stage and stood next to Ironhide. Those who continued to watch him saw him looking with concern at the door through which young tech assistant had been removed. The sensitive audios of the Autobots present could still hear the MPs trying to calm her outside the door as she thrashed and struggled, trying to get back in. Finally one of the MPs said to her "Calm down, we'll take you to your new cage. Optimus will come for you later." Her squeeees of delight could be heard by all within as she was carried away.

Ratchet, ignoring the antics outside, stood with calm confidence before the assembly.

"Good afternoon. I am going to begin with a very brief history of our species. Cybertronians, as we are today, are theorized to have developed from a form of cybernetic life that lacked individual sentience, but functioned on more of what you would consider a hive mind. We hypothesize, though are not certain, that the now destroyed allspark was originally the conscious sentience of our hive mind, and at some point, that sentience made the decision to begin creating autonomous sentient sparks to be placed in shells created by the hive. Vestiges of our earlier hive connection exist in the bonds that we create with one another, and help form the emotional and physical connections that exist within a cohort, the closest concept we have to a human family, but which is based on shared function rather than shared genetics."

"Like human beings, our social connections are highly important to us, and exist on many different levels. The first bond that most Cybertronians experience is a bond similar to the connection present between human parents and children. This bond exists between a newly sparked lifeform the caretakers who train and protect it. Sometimes those who created the shell for the spark produced by the allspark act as caretakers, other times others within the sparkling's cohort take on that function. One sparkling may have several creators, in some cases an entire cohort is involved in its creation. The same goes with caretakers, whether they are the original creators or not. It is not unusual for a sparkling or youngling to have a half dozen or more caretakers activity involved in its training and protection. Before our war, that bond was a lifelong one, very precious to caretakers and their charges. Sadly the war destroyed many such cohorts and very few of us still have bonds with living creators or caretakers. There is not a Cybertonian on this base who has not lost a large number if not all of their of their original cohort, whether their own sparklings or their caretakers."

Ratchet paused to let this sink in.

Giving a nod to those assembled, Ratchet continued, "We do not procreate sexually as you understand it, but that does not mean that we do not have great affection for those that you would call "children". One of our cohort, Bumblebee, was the last sparkling – that is, newly sparked lifeform - known to be left alive at the height of the war. He was created by two mechs and a femme all of whom died in a Decepticon attack that was part of a brutal campaign that killed nearly every sparkling and youngling left on our planet. He was hidden by his creators and discovered by the Autobots, and then adopted by the senior members of Prime's personal cohort to be protected and trained as his spark grew in strength. Because of this, many of the senior Autobots in our cohort have formed a caretaker bond with him, much to his chagrin at times." Ratchet nodded at Bumblebee who gave a mournful warble.

"While the allspark is our primary source of newly sparked life, we do have two other methods of creating sentient sparks. The first is by creating symbiotic sparks by splitting off a small portion of our own sparks in a highly dangerous procedure. Symbiots are bonded to their creator, and their spark energy is identical to that of their creator. Symbiots, in terms of intelligence, are more at the level of a highly prized pet who works in partnership with its master. The proper analogy, though very inexact, would be a seeing-eye-dog or police dog. Symbiots are not able to exist independently of the Cybertronian who gave them their sparks, and are, in truth, more like the original hive mind that existed in our prehistory."

"The final method of creating new life is far more rare. It has happened only a few hundred times in our known history. Occasionally, when we merge our sparks with those of a bondmate or mates, our sparks have been known to spontaneously produce a second fully sentient spark. This is exceedingly rare, and has not happened since long before the current war. It is also exceedingly dangerous to the one who produces the new spark, with a fatality rate of nearly 30%. I will explain more about this process later in my briefing, but the merging that I am referring to is not the same as your sexual reproduction. The new spark is not created through a combining of anything similar to genetic material. It is the result of an excess of spark energy resulting from a merge. We still do not fully understand how or why this rare occurance takes place, but it gives us hope in the absence of the allspark that perhaps we will continue to evolve in a manner that allows our species to continue."

Ratchet again paused for effect. The snickering had stopped. The humans present were fascinated, as he had hoped they would be.

"Like human beings, we are a tactile species. One of the ways in which our cohort members connect with one another on an emotional and physical level is remarkably similar to the grooming practices you find among many forms of mammals on your planet, though in our case, the function is not the removal of annoying pests, but rather the relief of static charge that builds up in our ungrounded circuits, a charge that is uncomfortable for us in the similar manner that a buildup of lactic acid is uncomfortable in human muscles. Before we built our alliance with humanity, relieving one another of that static charge through tactile and electromagnetic contact was an every day, normal public occurrence to us. This type of tactile affection takes place in our species between creators and their sparklings or younglings, between cohort mates that you would use the word 'friends' and 'siblings' to describe, and between those of us who are bondmates. Upon learning that the type of tactile contact such grooming practices entail sometimes resembles much more highly intimate forms of sexualized contact in your species, the senior members of this cohort ruled that all such grooming would only take place away from and out of sight of any human presence. I will admit to you that for our species, hiding that type of tactile intimacy is very strange and highly uncomfortable."

"Our cohort's senior members have made the decision that hiding our normal behaviors from the humans of this base was a mistake, and instead of leading to less discomfort for the human members of this alliance, it has led to ripe speculation and misconceptions as some of the humans here became aware, unbeknownst to us, of those grooming practices. I therefore have asked two of the ranking members of our cohort to demonstrate for you Cybertronian grooming practices so that you will become familiar and comfortable with such tactile expressions and understand that such contact is not in any way connected to human sexual interactions."

With this, Prowl and Jazz stepped forward. Jazz had an expression on his face like a kid in a candy shop, which made Ratchet frown in concern. Prowl, for his part, appeared distracted and confused.

Jazz stood directly in front of Prowl, and placed is servo on Prowls chest. "Prowler here has some mighty strained circuits 'cause he don't get 'nough recharge and works 'imself too hard. I'm gonna start with an EM burst that will send quick relief throughout his circuits and help him begin to release some of that excess charge."

Those watching felt and heard the EM burst that traveled from Jazz's servo into Prowl's systems. Ratchet's optics looked concerned. That had not been a "gentle" EM burst, and he could sense that Prowl nearly had overloaded as the black and white mech groaned and cursed in Cybertonian.

/What in the pit are you doing, Jazz?/ Ratchet commed.

/Sorry bout that, Doc. I just was a bit nervous and enthusiastic. I'll keep it under control/ came a rather smug reply.

Jazz next explained to those gathered that static charge could be released by stroking sections of protoform between armor plates, and demonstrated by inserting on claw like finger into a gap and stroking upward, making Prowl shudder and groan again. Jazz then proceeded to stroke Prowl's sensor covered door wings, and what happened next was so fast and surprising that they could only stare, mouths and mandibles open wide in shock.

Prowl growled, grabbed Jazz, and threw him to the floor. Both mechs began frantically stroking one another and seemed to be attempting to pry off the others armor. Prowl put both of his servos on Jazz's chest and let off several EM bursts that had Jazz writhing on the floor, moaning. Both mechs then simultaneous extended their interface cables from their wrists and pried off the others port coverings on their chests, the spike-like ends of the cables plugging into the ports with nearly violent speed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Optimus silently handed Ratchet and Ironhide a cube of highgrade from his private stash. It was obvious that he had already quickly downed several before they had arrived.

"Well, _that_ went well," Ironhide vented, throwing himself onto a chair.

Jazz and Prowl, after rapidly overloading one another 4 times in front of a stunned audience, had attempted to sparkmerge. Prowl had actually shot at Ironhide when he tried to separate the two, the shot going wild and putting a hole in the ceiling above the human section. The humans had gone into panic mode and stampeded toward the doorway to escape. The SIC and 3IC then attempted to protect each other, weapons charged, their base programming to protect a bondmate at all costs completely taking over. They only stood down when they were promised to be allowed to share a brig, and were now there, together, and as far as anyone knew, continuing to overload one another and sparkmerge repeatedly.

"I guess I should have realized that millions of years of repressed feelings might have led to this." Ratchet said dryly.

"Who ever would have guessed that Prowl was capable of completely leaving his logic and good sense behind in front of the entire base?" Optimus countered, his hands rubbing above his optics.

They all turned toward the door hearing the chime announcing a human visitor. Optimus silently signaled the door to open, and in stepped an exhausted and highly annoyed looking Will Lennox. Prime silently stood, opened a compartment and took out the bottle of scotch and glass he kept on hand for just such "debriefings". Lennox silently poured himself a glass, glaring at the 3 mechs the whole time.

"You have something you wish to say to us, major?" Prime rumbled.

"So boys, what have we learned from this experience?" Will countered, his mouth beginning to twitch.

"Don't ever plan briefings on sensitive cultural subjects without consulting my fellow commander." Prime recited.

"I thought we had already learned this one, my friend," Will suggested, taking another drink.

"The older one is, the longer it takes to sink in," Optimus admitted sheepishly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: You Know You Are Addicted to Cyberporn  
**Chapter 4** **Author**: Femme4jack  
**Pairing**: Prowl/Jazz (allusions to Sunny/Sides) **Rating**: R for cussing and subject matter.  
**Warnings**: Complete Utter Crack (like all other chapters), not a "sticky fic", but mentions fictional sticky, bondage, and xeno (fanfiction within fanfiction). Giant fake robot dildo warning. Mentions PnP and Spark interfacing  
**Words**: approx 3300  
**Summary**: Prowl and Jazz wake up in the brig, and a plan goes horribly wrong in the rec room (or right, depending on how you look at it).  
**Notes**: A portion of this chapter was originally written for the tf_speedwriting Advent Calendar 2010. I can't believe it has been a year since I updated this! I'm so sorry! Hope that Prowl and Jazz's wake up along with the twin's antics make up for the long overdue update.

* * *

You Know You are Addicted to Cyberporn Ch. 4

* * *

**"What do you think of this one?"** the silver bladewarrior asked his twin as they hovered together over a display.

**"At _least_ it appears mechanical and not like some disgusting piece of meat-sac anatomy,"** Sunstreaker replied, turning to regard his brother with intense, nearly whitish-blue optics. **"Why are we doing this again?"**

**"Because, bro,"** the silver mech gave an exasperated sigh. **"There are fleshy femmes all over this base who read about interfacing with us because those evolutionarily deficient males of theirs are not up to the task. I just want to see the look on one of their faces when she is suddenly presented the actual opportunity to have what she wants. It will send her away shrieking when she sees that it is almost as big as she is."**

**"And you think that will get them to leave us alone and quit messing up my polish with their slimy little hands?"** Suntreaker asked with a growl at the constant handprints for which he was permitted no retribution. Everyone was always _touching_ him. A pat on his hood. A hand on his wheeled-pede. It was absolutely revolting, especially when he thought about where those hands had been.

**"Of course bro. No doubt about it."** Sideswipe clapped his twin on the shoulder to emphasis his point.

**"All right. I think I can sculpt that easily enough. What color should it be?"**

**"Gold, bro. What other color would you make it?"**

**"Are you fragging nuts? I thought you were the one who was going to wear it!"** Sunstreaker yelled , turning to roughly grab his brother by the complex sensor structure structure on his helm.

**"Don't be such an aft, bro! I _can't_ be the one who wears it. You are the attractive one. You know that you are the most attractive mech on base. No one would be interested in 'facing me when they could have _you_. Not to mention how much more frightening you are than me. We need to scare the lubricants out of them to get them to quit pawing at you."**

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge, then extended his right blade and transformed his other hand into a sharpener so he could preen and groom himself. **"Well, you couldn't be more right about that. I guess it will have to be me. But if it doesn't work, you get to polish me every day for the next vorn,"** he threatened, using the blade for emphasis.

Sideswipe gave an innocent, eager smile. **"'Course bro. You've got a deal, and I'll happily polish you daily even if it does work. You know that."**

"Hey Sides, what's up?" came the friendly voice of Sam Witwicky, who had just sidled up between him and his brother's pedes. Sideswipe noticed the disgusted look on his twin's faceplates, and looked down; sure enough, Sam was leaning against Sunstreaker's skate.

Sunstreaker immediately palmed the display off, roughly removed his pede from underneath Sam, and skated off irritably without saying a word save through his twin bond.

~I'm out of here. I can't take being in their presence for another second. I'll be in my studio.~

~He was only leaning against you, bro. Not like he was pawing you.~

~He had his disgusting, soft, squishie aft on me!~

~Good incentive to scare the slag out of them later, right? I'll see you when I get off duty, ok? Special polish, just for you.~

A low growl was the only response as Sunstreaker left the room.

Sideswipe looked down with a grin at Sam, now sprawled out on the ground. "Thanks, Spike-my-man. I owe you one. _That_ was perfect."

"Glad to be of service. So why _have_ you been trying to get everyone to touch him lately?" Sam "Spike" Witwicky asked as Sideswipe casually lifted him up onto his shoulder and strapped a couple of cables around him to keep him from losing his balance and breaking himself on the floor.

"You'll see soon enough. I'll make sure you are around when it happens, kid." Sideswipe reached up to his shoulder and ruffled Sam's hair.

"Just how dangerous is Sunbeam likely to become?" Sam asked, a worried look crossing his face.

"Well…you know how pissed Megatron was at you for turning his spark to slag? Probably a little more angry than that. But don't worry, it will be ok. Sunny never actually kills fleshies," Sideswipe chuckled, and made a mental note to make sure that he raided Ratchet's supplies for a remote delivery sedative.

"Wow…so…yeah. That sounds really…cool Sides. But hey, the reason I came by is that I have an idea for several episodes next season. You want to hear them?"

"Can't right now, kid. I volunteered for an extra duty shift. Starts in a couple kliks," the silver bladewarrior warrior explained with practiced nonchalance.

"You…volunteered? For extra work? You feeling ok? Should I comm Hatchet?" Sam regarded his creative collaborator with his eyebrows raised.

"You better believe I did, little Spike. I have brig duty, and our favorite wrench-wielder expects Prowl and Jazz to come out of their level-6 extended recharge sometime in the next joor. I wouldn't miss it for a shipload of vintage Vos highgrade."

Sam raised his eyebrows. That would be a sight. But then again, he wasn't sure that it was the best idea for Sideswipe to be the mech on duty considering the relationship he had with the rule-bound tactician on the best of days. But then again, without Prowl to schedule the duty shifts, such scheduling glitches were bound to happen.

"Say, Sides, who is doing scheduling with Prowl in the brig?"

"That's the best part, Spike. _I_ am. I don't even think Prime looked at the data pad when he signed the order, he is so distracted with the aftermath of everything that has happened."

Sam just shook his head, feeling a bit sorry for Optimus, but not _too_ sorry. The big lug really should have talked with some humans, like the human _Prime_ for instance, before making a decision to have mandatory Smex Ed for the entire base.

"I'm coming with you," Sam decided, "I've got to see this."

* * *

Prowl's optics had not yet come online, though his primary processors had. His HUD informed him that had been in a level 6 medical recharge, one step above medical stasis, and his systems had slowly been coming online, one-by-one, for a joor.

Had he been injured? Had there been a battle? Was his memory core damaged?

_Query: Reason recorded in log for medical recharge?_ he pinged his systems.

_Response: No explanation recorded in log._

Prowl frowned in displeasure. It was not like Ratchet to put mecha into medical recharge without leaving a note in their log for when they came back online. It was disconcerting to have been in such a vulnerable state and not know why.

He decided to comm Ratchet. ::Chief Medical Officer Ratchet, please report condition that necessitated a full orn of level 6 medical recharge.::

His systems pinged him again with a message that _was_ recorded in his log. _Comms automatically disabled per regulation 481.5968. Comms may only be reinitialized with emergency override by superior officer pending disciplinary hearing for infraction 1049057783.385._

Prowl pondered the message. It surely was a glitch. The infraction code cited was one created specifically in response to their alliance with the humans. It indicated that he had put the organics at risk in a public setting outside of a battle engagement (in which sometimes, though there were subroutines and regulations to prevent such, collateral damage was permitted to occur if doing otherwise meant a greater loss of organic lives). But outside of a combat situation? Such a thing should not have been possible. He had 895,582 subroutines dedicated specifically to keeping the deceptively fragile humans safe in such settings. The only thing which could have caused him to put them at risk in a non-combat situation was a virus. But when could he have contracted a virus? His firewalls were some of the most intricate and insurmountable among the Autobots, by necessity. There was information contained in his memory core that even Prime erased from his own once missions and tactics were approved.

A virus would explain why he had been in a medically induced level 6 recharge.

He carefully scanned his systems and reviewed his logs. There was no sign of a virus...though his logs did indicate that he had interfaced...with...

"Oh Primus," he muttered, his optics instantly coming online as he sat up, only to bump into the silver plated, visored menace who had apparently been sitting above his helm where he lay and was leaning over him with his signature cheshire grin.

~Took you long enough to figure it out, Prowler,~ a voice purred in his spark.

_Purred_. _In his spark!_ Where he was...not alone. He could _feel_ Jazz, and, moreover, feel his spark lunging in anticipation of merging with its other half again...and again...and again.

In an instant, a section of his memory core defragmented. He remembered everything, and let out a groan that was half despair and half desire.

There was another set of subroutines that overrode all others, including those that protected fragile organics. These subroutines were written by a mechas' own sparks in the crystals lining the walls of their spark chambers, and they demanded mecha protect their sparkmates above all else. As soon as he and Jazz had interfaced, they had known. They were _sparkmates_. It was more than simply being bonded. Many mechs and femmes in a cohort might form bonds and merge regularly to strengthen those bonds, bringing their sparks into closer resonance. But he and Jazz had a unique kind of bond that was so improbable that the records of such were more legend than fact. Jazz's spark was in complete, perfect resonance with his own. One merge, and the bond was more solid and perfect than any bondmates could achieve after an entire functioning of interfacing and merging. His own system had initiated a level 6 recharge to allow his processors to settle and make the edits needed to adequately respond to the unfathomable discovery that he was sparkbonded.

~Prrroowwwlerrrrr~ Jazz's spark sang into his own again

"My designation is Prowl," the SIC growled even as he grabbed his sparkmate, cables snaking out toward Jazz's ports and chest plates parting as fast as their hydraulics would allow.

"I don't know whether to be totally turned on or ill," Sam said quietly from Sideswipe's shoulder where they were watching the pyrotechnics coming from inside the holding cell.

Sideswipe only gave an engine rev in response. He was far too consumed with the show, along with recording it and broadcasting it (with commentary) to the rest of the base through the systems he had hacked.

* * *

**"You ready?"**

**"Yeah, ready. Which one?"**

**"The one with the frizz on her head the color of the water that goes down the drain after Hound's been in the racks."**

**"That one?"**

**"Yeah, her."**

**"Why her?"**

**"I don't know. She is a squishy. She smiles all the time and it is creepy. She touched my hood with her greasy, skin-shedding crushable little fingers last week."**

**"So you want to scare the organic fluids out of her because she _smiles all the time_? You are one cruel and sadistic bastard."**

**"And this is supposed to be news? Do I need to remind you this was _your_ idea?"**

**"Not at all ... I just thought you'd pick someone who actually writes the slag. You know, like Mikaela, Sarah, or even Maggie."**

**"She _could_ write it. She probably reads it. You can see it in her eyes. They have that doe-eyed worshipful look."**

**"But you like being worshipped."**

**"That is beside the point. She is there, she is a squishy, she is the target."**

**"Alright, bro. I'll go get her."**

Sunstreaker crossed his arms, glaring at his brother as he approached the fleshy sitting at the other end of the rec-room with a couple of other insignificant representatives of her kind. Just the thought of what they had been reading and thinking about sent a shiver of disgust up his spinal struts. When he'd first heard about the phenomena of fanfiction, he had found it not worthy of any notice, other than a quick glance to make sure the squishies were accurate about his incomparable ferocity in battle and perfection in form.

But then he'd stumbled on it. The first one he found almost made him purge his tanks, and Sideswipe was only just able to prevent him from doing something that would have led to his longest stint in the brig to date.

The squishy had written about him stasis cuffed in Prowl's office. _Prowl_! And the SIC had been ... licking him. With his glossa? And what the frag was a glossa, anyhow? Why in Primus name would beings with vocal modulators and chem sensors need a wiggly organic-style tongue? If that wasn't bad enough, the horrid characterization of him was _begging_ Prowl to _spike_ him. At first the frontliner thought it was a request for some sort of masochistic torture not unlike what he enjoyed doing with his blades in battle. (Not masochistically, of course. In battle it was pure sadism, though he did appreciate a good injury now and then to further ignite his rage.)

But _then_ he'd realized what the squishy really meant. It was the most humiliating, disgusting, slagged-up idea he'd ever heard an organic come up with: that he would ... interface ... like a squishy, complete with some form of disgusting fluid...and that he would do so with _Prowl_

From there it only got worse. He couldn't help himself. Like optics drawn to a disaster scene, he kept looking for of the slag. He and his brother going at it like Sam and Mikaela (Primus, did they have any idea how LOUD they were and what nauseating noises they made?). Not that he didn't enjoy a good interface with his twin. There really wasn't anything better, other than sticking his blade through a Decepticon's spark. But squishy style? He'd found stories and artwork of him paired with Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Bluestreak, and (_shudder_), even Starscream. There were threesomes with him and his brother with Optimus (that he would not admit he found frighteningly appealing. That voice ... ).

Oh, but if only it were just those. The most horrifying moment came when he discovered the ones where he ... pleasured ... a squishy. Where he took one as a sort of pet, and _touched_ it. Frag, there was even one where he _bonded_ with one.

From that point on he could hardly stand to look at them. They had, of course, long been below his notice, but now he did _notice_ them, and loathsome images crossed his processors as he considered just what they might be thinking about.

It had even distracted him in battle. One of them had _touched_ him and he'd quickly moved himself away, right into Laserbeak's line of fire, and she had _scratched his finish_! It was humiliating.

He was out of options. He was either going to completely lose his temper and start flattening the fleshies, or he was going to have to get off the pit-spawned planet.

Then Sideswipe had presented him with an alternative.

Sunstreaker watched as his brother made nice with the pus-colored-water-filled organic femme with hair the color of swamp-muck. He watched as her annoying smile got even wider before she, thankfully, covered her slimy mouth with her hand and tittered. While she followed Sideswipe over to him, Sunstreaker deliberately turned away, just as planned, taking the object he had he had sculpted out of subspace, magnetizing it, and attaching it to his pelvic plate. He could feel every eye and optic in the rec-room on him. Plenty of the females were there. Word would spread fast, and then they would _never_ touch him or think of him that way again.

His chem sensors read her pheromones as she approached. Oh yes, she was a perfect candidate. Definitely one of the females who were deluding themselves by reading the stories.

Then he turned around, and watched her eyes go wide in shock as she was presented with what she thought she desired. An enormous, phallic metal cable standing erect and proud, jutting out of the perfectly polished armor of his pelvic plate.

"I know you want it, human," he growled in a voice heard by every being in the room. "It is as large as you are. You should be careful what you wish for, because you might just find them coming true."

Fighting back his reflex to purge, he picked her up and placed her on his false mod. She gave a satisfying little squeal of terror as she straddled it, holding on for dear life so she wouldn't plummet to the ground from its considerable height.

"I'm going to take you to my quarters now and give you what you thought you wanted. Are you ready for it?" he growled again in a slightly less convincing tone. The fleshy was not screaming for help. She wasn't begging him to let her go. There were fear pheromones from her, to be sure, but the ones that signaled her arousal were even stronger than before.

Her death cling turned to clinging of another sort, and he watched with growing horror as she began kissing the mod, rubbing herself on it, making little whimpering noises that had nothing to do with the terror he was supposed to be inspiring in her.

"I always knew it was true," _kiss_. "I never believed it was fiction," _lick_, _kiss_. "Please, Sunny, take me back to your quarters and you can do anything you want to me." She nuzzled the golden mod like she might nuzzle a soft kitten.

He stood frozen, his optics cycling in shock as she continued to pour out her devotion on that new mod which was, thank Primus, not actually connected to any of his systems. He wanted to grab her and turn her the consistency of squished banana, but he _could not move._

He finally found his vocalizer, and to his dismay the sound that came out was not a roar of rage, but a high piched keen. **"GET IT OFF OF ME! Get it off, get it off. For the love of Primus Get! It! Off! Of! Me!"**

No one moved to help him. Sideswipe was standing at the edge of the room, obviously recording the entire incident. He finally managed to pull the magnetized cable off of him and throw it. The fleshy lost her grip and she rushed to meet the wall at velocity that was sure to kill her - or would have if Mirage had not suddenly shed his cloak and caught her, kneeling to put her gently on the floor with a look of haughty distaste.

**"That was exceedingly base, Sunstreaker. Why in Primus name would you encourage them in their delusions? If I didn't know better, I'd be convinced that you _want_ them to keep on rubbing their hands on your finish. "**

Sunstreaker looked around at the various expressions of horror, amusement, and, Primus help him, arousal. Several of the females had made their way over to the phallic cable on the floor and were arguing about who should get it and where it should be kept.

One turned toward him with a those tooth-filled, bacteria-laden smiles and said. "OH MY GOD. I have a friend who would just LOVE that. How much do you charge for the show?"


End file.
